


Vows

by enochiangnocchi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Vows, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enochiangnocchi/pseuds/enochiangnocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Destiel Drabble. A One-Shot for their first not-so-no-homo experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vows

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So this is my first fic… I really didn’t want it to be too long, so I’m sorry if parts of it feel rushed or awful. Anyway I hope you like it ^__^ In celebration of the new Supreme Court ruling on Marriage Equality (BIG WIN!!) I have added a line or two from the original post last week. Thanks!

_You cannot possess me for I belong to myself_

_But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give_

_You cannot command me, for I am a free person_

_But I shall serve you in those ways you require_

_and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand._

Silence.

It was one of those rare mornings where everything was quiet. Cas could focus on the tiny specks of dust that drifted through the air and hear the buzz of the generators that lit the bunker. He’d watch the sunlight glow boldly through the small crease between the top of the first stair and the entrance to outside world. In the corner of his eye he’d spot the occasional tiny insect bouncing along the walls, attempting to find some means of escape from the drab interior of his home. He'd take his breaths in slowly, feeling the heavy weight of air filling his lungs and whirling through his nostrils.

Castiel loved mornings like this. He could hear the scraping sounds of his fingertips against his own skin and stubble when he touched his face, feel the brief flutter that his lashes brought down over his eyes with every blink. He could hone in on the lingering smell of last night’s ink on paper, or the occasional notes of Benzaldehyde from the aging pages in the tomes that lay scattered across the tables. He would follow the particles in the air as they descended, as if listening for the landing in all the quiet.

Ever since he had fallen, he’d lost a little more of his ability to clearly appreciate the kinetic energies of every moving thing around him, getting lost in the more profoundly Human experiences like emotion: He’d forgotten to take the time out to appreciate that every atom in this world gave off a vibration, a small sign that it was present, and that it would make a difference if it were to disappear.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep gulp of air.

Then he heard one of his favorite sounds, and the corner of his lip twitched upwards into a smile.

He reset his face, trying hard not to let his demeanor show the jolt of electricity that was coursing through him. His heartbeat quickened, a sensation he was still not used to and he tried to steady his breath. The odd rolling cadence came to a stop, and the _thunk_ of metal closing into place and the jangle of a bullet on old keys moved his blood. Then came _crunch_  of a boot hitting gravel, and in six more steps... _he’d_ be home.

Cas rolled his eyes inside his lids, shaming himself for wanting to meet the cause of his inner electricity at the door like a dog excited to see their master. After a few muffled words from the familiar voice he heard it: the slim metal of the key had been pushed into the lock, clicking each chamber audibly into place. He caught his breath, his legs trembling beneath him as he tried to remain calm. Castiel could never be sure how to define this sensation, but it took over him like a sickness- one that didn’t weaken him, by any means, but simply made his blood flow through every tiny vein even faster. The last  _click_ , then—

Dean Winchester stood at the top of the stairs, a brown paper bag resting in the nook of his arm. He looked below to see the Angel, sitting cross legged on the couch below, posed as if meditating. Dean jerked his head, raising a brow up at the sight. His stubble was visible in the hints of natural light atop the stairs, but his eyes would forever seem like they were glowing.

“Yo” he grumbled as he began down the stairs. The hunter used quick steps to put himself on the landing, a small  _clang_  when his soles hit each stair.

Cas breathed in. He liked that every noise Dean made had so far seemed to intrude on the morning, like a lone person applauding at a wake.

“Where’s Sammy?” he asked, placing the bag down at the table across from Cas.

“He went for a run” exhaled Cas smoothly, still not opening his eyes.

He could hear Dean mussing with the bag, the crinkling of it almost rude in it’s volume, in great contrast to rest of the morning’s ambiance. He did enjoy the smell of pine and leather that followed Dean into the room with him, though. It was never something he confessed to Dean, but he always took an extra moment whenever he came home to process the million effects that Dean’s presence had on him: It would hit him like a ton of bricks, first the sounds of the car, then the boots on the gravel, then the clinking of his keys – but none of that compared to the sensation of warmth that came with his body entering the room, the thick scent that accompanied his physical self. He inhaled deeply again, and smiled; he loved that smell.

“You alright there Dalai Llama?” Dean mused. He would always know Cas was odd, and had known it since he’d met him, but even after all the times he’d find him sitting like this, Indian style on the couch, as if waiting for a story, it was still weird.

Cas’ eyes opened, and met Dean’s.

Green. Beautiful green with specks of gold, a hazy blur of Tea and honey. He had to devour this moment; he knew it made Dean uncomfortable to stare for too long.

As if on cue, Dean broke eye contact and found something to do with his hands. He always shifted about when Cas looked at him like that; it was never a casual glance with him, it was always this piercing, crystalline stare, like nothing could get past him. Dean wasn’t one to let people in, but it was like trying to stop a sharp knife with flesh, it just wasn’t doable with Cas. He was always so intense.

Dean smiled wickedly at Cas' lingering stare, and waited for Cas to look away first.

"Well Good mornin' to you too, sunshine" he mocked. Cas flushed.

“The Dalai Llama is not the only one on this earth who meditates Dean. And for the record, he has the luxury of more welcome surroundings.”

“Yeah, well” Dean replied, handing Cas a beer, “if you’re done come help me put this crap away.”

Cas looked at the bottle, then up at Dean, head tilting.

“Isn’t it a little early for this type of beverage?”

Dean twisted the lid off his own bottle and flicked it onto the table. He smiled, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling, and licked his lips.

“Call it a pre-breakfast appetizer” he said, and winked. Cas winced. “Besides -  if all we’ve got are damn egg whites and bread slices, then we’ll need whatever we can to make it go down better.”

Dean made his way into the kitchen with his beer in one hand a loaf of bread in the other. Ever since a woman had referred to Dean as the ‘chubby one’ on a case of theirs, Dean had taken it upon himself to eat at least one less meal that Sam would roll his overly health-conscious eyes at per day. Seeing as breakfast was usually consumed when he was too tired to notice if it was even any good, that was usually the good tasting meal he was most likely to sacrifice.

Cas trailed behind him silently, his socks on the floor making no mention of his movement at all. He stopped just behind Dean, his firm body almost touching the Curve of Dean’s back and broad shoulders. He liked watching Dean cook, hearing the crackling of the pan getting hot, watching the back of Dean’s neck grow moist with sweat. He liked to see the shine expand through his dirty blonde hair, and hear the soft humming of whatever song Dean had listened to on the way back to the bunker, sometimes a tune he’d recognize, like a song by Styx.

It wasn’t till Dean had already cracked the eggs and poured the translucent jelly onto the pan and turned to get the salt that he noticed Castiel was practically on top of him.

He jumped.

“Jesus Cas, what have I told you about doing that?!”

Castiel merely frowned, looking apologetically up into his eyes. Dean’s stomach lurched, but he was pretty confident that it had nothing to do with how hungry he was. There was something about the Angel's face, the way his forehead was completely smooth save for one spot of worry, and the way his eyes were tired even though he’d had plenty of rest. No matter how frazzled Cas appeared at times, there was always a tone of something Dean couldn’t quite place in his brilliant blue eyes. It made him feel nervous, always on edge.

“Sorry” Cas mumbled, taking a step back. “I forget that you have your boundaries.”

“Yeah well don’t think that you owe me  _that_  kind of closeness just for makin’ your breakfast every morning. Pass me the salt” he grumbled as he flipped the pan.

Castiel handed Dean the shaker and leaned his back to the fridge. Dean may not have realized that he shook a hip to the right in perfect time to whatever song was playing in his mind, but Castiel always did and appreciated it. It was one of the few moments in a day where it made him feel like Dean was happy, and not overly preoccupied with the world around them. He sighed heavily, frustrated, and stared at Dean with a puzzled expression.

“You know Cas, you keep staring at me from back there you’re gonna bore a hole into the back of my head. You got something to ask me, spit it out” Dean said, turning suddenly to face him.

Cas froze. He hated making Dean feel uncomfortable; he sometimes was so lost in processing all of the new thoughts and emotions that came with being mostly human that he wasn’t sure he was doing it right. A moment of silence passed, Dean’s eyes trained on the face of his friend. Castiel’s poker face was probably the worst one he’d ever seen.

“Mm. You’re burning it” Cas blurted out.

“Pardon?” Dean asked. His eyes widened when Cas made his way straight for him. Before he could ask what he was doing, he was pinned to the stove with Castiel’s arms groping around him to lift the pan from the burner. He watched as Cas pulled it close to his chest and took a few steps back, transfixed. He was smiling like a little kid who’d succeeded in saving a life.

“Saved it” he exclaimed with a grin, pointing at his accomplishment.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle.

"I raise you, egg, from perdition" he grumbled in an overly serious manner.

“You are such a dork” he jibed, heading for the cabinets with the plates.

The pair of them took their seats at the table, Cas at the head of it, and Dean on a corner. Taking the pan from Castiel before a horrible accident occurred, Dean divvied up the food onto their plates. Before he could put the pan down, Cas had the fried egg white in his hands and was eating it like toast. It was one of those weird mannerisms that Dean noticed about Castiel – he’d use his hands to eat the eggs, and the silverware to eat the Toast. He knew that Cas thought he’d at least gotten that right, so Dean gave it to him and never told him otherwise.

It was still odd to Dean that the awkward little man that sat before him was once one of the greatest commanding soldiers in God’s personal Angel army. Now he may have thought that Angels in general were just giant, selfish Dickbags, but not a day went by that he didn’t feel guilty that Castiel had sacrificed all of his honor and power to throw his lot in with the Winchesters. It was easier for Dean to believe he’d done it for both of them, not just for himself. He’d never really felt like they’d deserved Cas, and after countless nights knowing how he’d messed that up by either being a Dick himself or making Cas feel anything other than hugely appreciated, it was hard for him to find a way to show him that it meant a lot that he was always around. He watched Cas scrape his plate for the last bits of toast and carry the crumbs from his fingertips to his mouth. He took another swig of his beer and smiled down at the table in that sad way he did when he couldn’t process the mountains of guilt and lack of self-worth that haunted him.

“What’s wrong?” came Cas’ voice. Dean looked up to see him staring intently at him, concerned.

Dean paused a beat. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”

Castiel’s brows came together, and his eyes grew smaller. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on the table by Dean’s plate and met his low gaze.

“Where else would I be?”

Dean glanced deeply into those familiar blue eyes, and he wondered if all Angels brought that haunted quality with them when they’d taken a human vessel. Whoever occupied that body before surely didn’t have the depth of hundreds of years of compassion and battles and sadness that Cas had kept in those two irises. There it was again, that off-putting intensity that Dean couldn't place. He swallowed.

Breaking the moment, Dean laughed and rapped his knuckled on the table.

“I’m gonna grab a shower” he said, rising from his chair. Cas’s eyes followed him as he put their dishes in the sink and made his way back past the table. He couldn’t shake the feeling that so much was on Dean’s mind and yet he’d barely said a word.

“Dean, I know there’s more on your mind. I share that with you, I can tell when there’s—“

Dean cut him off with a wink and made his way out of the room and toward the shower.

“You didn’t even eat!” Cas called out again.

Dean ignored him and disappeared behind the door.

 ~

Dean let the water get so hot he felt it pinch and twist his skin as it came over him. He covered his face with his hands as the water beat down onto him, tiny daggers making his freckled skin turn slowly pink beneath the drops. He took a deep breath from his hands and growled.

He was so frustrated he wasn’t sure how to react. While it was perfectly normal for Dean to be a glutton for self-depreciation, lately he’d been thinking so much about what he’d cost Cas in Heaven from the moment that they met that it made his insides tie into a thousand knots, stopping even his stomach from wanting food around him. His muscles tensed at the thought of it, not allowing him even room to alleviate himself with the usual stand-by material of a busty Asian beauty fantasy – it was only the face of Castiel, blood stained from his own hands and at the mark of Cain’s possession that he saw when he closed his eyes. It was because of him that the Darkness was upon this world, because of him that Castiel was trapped by his side, even after he’d almost lost his life at his refusal to accept that Dean still felt responsible for the actions carried out because of the mark. He lowered his hands to spy his arm: ever since it had disappeared it felt more like a ghost that he must carry the impossible weight of. At least while the mark was on him, the pain that came with his guilt was virtually nonexistent – with the mark now off of his flesh, he had no physical proof that it wasn’t just his own doing, his own inner darkness responsible. Rubbing his slippery hands down his chest and firmly around his member, Dean tried to shake the visual of Castiel’s intrusive eyes. He didn’t consciously notice how much more tense he became at the thought of them.

 ~

He was in his room changing when there was an urgent knock on the door.

“Dean! DEAN!” Cas’ voice came. It sounded strangled, no notes of strength like it usually held.

Dean immediately went for the door and his knife, shirt only half buttoned over his still damp frame.

“Cas!” Dean barked, swinging the door wildly open and pulling him inside of the room. He swung one leg out and checked both sides of the hallway, only to find nothing there.

“Christ Cas, you okay? You sounded—- oh…”

Dean turned, annoyed, to see a hugely confused looking Cas with a glistening face- what looked like tears running down his face. Cas held out his hands to Dean, as if in shock. Dean steered Cas to the bed.

“Hey, buddy, are you alright? What is going on, man?” he asked, taking a knee beside him as Cas sank onto the edge.

“I don’t know… it’s… strange” he said, wiping the liquid from his eyes. He looked intently at the drops on his fingers, perplexed.

“What do I do?”

Dean furrowed his brow, staring. Cas noticed how flushed he looked, his cheeks red beneath his tanned skin, his lips full and hydrated. He saw the fury in his eyes and how they glared at him, through him. He’d seen this kind of worry, or similar, in instances where Sam was involved, but he never believed he’d drawn this type of stare from Dean before. Dean’s lips twitched awkwardly and he started to look around the room. Lifting the corner of his shirt up, he suddenly thought better of it and looked away. He took his thumb and wiped the other side of Castiel’s unshaven face, not making eye contact.

“Well, ah, I don’t really know. Maybe just tell yourself to knock it off?” Dean replied awkwardly, eyes still looking anywhere but at Cas’ face. “What were you thinking of when you got all, um…  _emotional_?”

Cas opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped. He looked down at the face of the hunter kneeling before him. He couldn’t put that on Dean. He merely swallowed as his vision again became blurry with the formation of what he suspected would be more tears.

Dean looked up in enough time to see Castiel’s chapped, full lips hold their tongue at bay. It was as if some unseen force had stopped him from speaking. Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s; what a mistake.

He didn’t need to say anything. Dean was reminded of every other time Cas had tried to speak when interrogated by him about why Cas did the things he did. It was that embarrassed, upward glance that pointed like a thousand angry fingers directly into Dean’s soul. Dean swallowed and looked away again, his own lips parting, his breathing as heavy as the weight of the universe.

Cas tried to pull a page from the Winchester book and lie; he had never wanted to lie to them, especially not to Dean, but he knew the only way to spare Dean of a truth he most likely did not want to hear was to lie. Cas let out a watery laugh and smashed the palms of his hands into his eyes to wipe away the oncoming storm.

“It’s nothing, Dean, I must still just be getting accustomed to the meat suit” he said finally. He smiled, fully, at Dean, but the Hunter knew too well the cost of smiles with that much hurt behind their eyes.

Dean was at a loss. He wasn’t sure if he should give Cas the benefit of pretending to believe him, or to press him further to know the truth. After a moment of wrestling himself for the words, he forced himself to look up at Cas. He hadn’t realized just how close he was to him, the smell of Cas’ skin now infiltrating his air.

“Cas, c’mon. It’s me – I mean you pulled me outta Hell, you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

There it was again, that same stare. It was the Earth meeting the Sea; a great God running his hands through the world they created, when their eyes met. There was no physical sensation that could compare, no catastrophe known to Man or Angel that could come close to the collision that was birthed between their eyes. Dean had a feeling that he knew, that he’d always known what a look like that meant from Castiel; he just never consciously acknowledged it because he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Cas had spent enough time with Dean to know what ate at him, and it had only gotten hungrier since Cas had become Human. Part of him wondered if the only reason he’d lasted so long before now was because the power of an Angel’s grace was the only thing that could come close enough to triumphing the devout and tremendous amount of love that he held for Dean. He never could understand how a simple Human was capable or surviving something as relentless and unyielding as Love. It did however only make him fall further with Dean knowing that he, as a mere Human, had to deal with the guilt of losing so many loved ones to the life. He surveyed his face, the rough blonde hairs that traced his chin, the lines of distress that colored the corners of his eyes, the long, curled lashes that framed the pools of reflective green.

“Dean, I—“ Cas croaked.

He couldn’t speak, or say the words. He shifted his gaze to Dean’s arms, he was so close to him, Dean kneeling between his thighs. Cas lifted two fingers to touch his shoulder, where his hand print once had been. He could feel Dean’s gaze still on his face, but Cas merely tilted his head, still watching his own hand. He closed his eyes suddenly, and moved his hand slowly to Dean’s mouth; he felt a small, soft breath escape from Dean’s lips. Cas’ fingers traced the opening, and slid softly to follow his stubbled jawline, and rested, finally on his cheek. He could feel the warmth coming from beneath it, and the vibrations of the quickened breaths that followed.

It was the strangest sensation in the world, but it was all Dean could do not to lean into Castiel’s hand. Every ridge of his fingertips seemed pronounced, invading his body in more ways than Cas probably realized. He licked his bottom lip and swallowed, wondering if Cas would notice how quickly his heart was now beating. Every hair on his body seemed to stand up on end as he studied Cas’ expression. Dean could only watch, frozen, as Castiel explored Dean’s face, as if Dean wasn’t even really there.

After what seemed like an infinity, Dean finally managed to whisper “Cas.”

Cas looked up at Dean, eyes wide. Not breaking that contact, Dean grabbed Castiel’s wrist, sweeping his hand across Cas’s and lowered it gently from his face. Swallowing again, Dean exhaled.

“It’s okay” he said softly.

Cas looked like he was in shock. After another moment, Dean slowly brought himself to his feet, Cas still seated on the bed. He hesitated a moment, but then leaned down over the Angel, and grabbing his face in his hands placed a kiss on his forehead. Cas didn’t take his eyes off Dean, not even for a second.

His skin was soft, the oil from it tickled Dean’s plush lips. He had pulled away almost as quickly as he had planted it down.

Castiel jumped to his feet and pulled Dean toward him by the collar. There was panic in his eyes, but their faces were almost touching they were so close. Dean could feel Cas’ heart beating frantically against his own chest, watching his pupils dilate right before his very eyes.

“Whoa, Cas-“ Dean began, but he could say no more. The moment his mouth opened, he felt Castiel’s lips crashing into him, forcing his rough lips onto Dean’s tongue inside of Dean’s own mouth. He threw his hand backward to catch himself against the wall, Castiel’s own strength and pressure against him costing Dean his balance.

Dean was paralyzed. So much was happening all at once he had no idea how to react. He could feel Castiel’s slick, wet tongue attacking the roof of his mouth and his whole body tingled. He was shocked, afraid even, but even more surprising to him wasn’t that he was kissing this man, it was that it didn’t feel altogether – unpleasant. He was suffocating, his entire body touching some part of Castiel’s; he was sure if he didn’t break away soon that Castiel wouldn’t stop pressing into him until he’d absorbed his whole being into his own. Finally, Dean found the strength to wedge his hand between their two chests and pushed Cas off of him with just enough force to capture Castiel’s attention. Cas pulled away swiftly after one last bite of Dean’s bottom lip and was brought back into world. His face was filled with such a fury that if Dean had not known him well enough by now he might think that he was some sort of Demon who’s intention was to claim his life as his own. Then, as quickly as the hurricane had begun, Castiel seemed to retract back into that paranoid and awkward human that Dean encountered this morning. He looked worried, afraid almost, but the effects of his adrenaline rush had left his cheeks with more color than Dean had seen in weeks, and his eyes so wide and round he looked as though he’d just dropped some acid.

Wiping his mouth turned to caressing his lips, then to covering his mouth completely. Dean rested the back of his head against the wall behind him, his breathing shallow and fast. Castiel tried not to notice the rise and fall of Dean’s sculpted chest, the dilation of his own eyes, the small trickle of sweat that had collected just above his collarbone.

Castiel was breathing heavily, finally turning his eyes to the ground.

“I’m sorry…” he began, rubbing his own lips in concentration.

“I—“ but before Cas could finish, he was stopped by the sound of Dean punching the wall.

“ _Damnit, Cas!”_ he barked. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at the Angel. He had no idea how to feel. He was angry, he was betrayed, he was…  _aroused?_ ….  _No Way,_ he thought.  _No way in hell!_

Dean was panting now. He could tell his face was completely red.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Dean raged, body turned to the wall. “You don’t tell  _anyone_ about this, do you understand me? Not Sammy, not God, not each other, not  _anybody_ , do I make myself clear?!”

Castiel was silent a moment, accepting the abuse. He could see the Hunter’s back rise and fall, feral like, as if transforming. He could tell Dean was livid.

“Of course” he mumbled, decimated. “I’ll get out of your way now” he finished and was out the door.

“Aw c’mon,  _CAS!”_  Dean called, turning, but Cas was nowhere in the Hall. Dean’s heart was still beating so fiercely it was hurting his chest.

“Damnit!” he shouted, kicking the door to his room.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on Man? Cas just flew out of here like a bat out of hell!” came Sam’s voice from the hall.

“Oh fucking  _perfect_ ” Dean snarled. “Sammy, do me a favor and have  _worse_  timing. Did- Did he say where he was going?”

“Well- no – but-“

“Fan-freaking-tastic!”

Before Sam could stutter another word Dean had grabbed his car keys and jacket.

“Wh-Well do you want me to come with?” said Sam, concerned. Dean felt bad that he couldn’t explain the situation to his brother, but with Castiel behaving as unpredictably as he was, he didn’t want to leave him alone for long.

“No, I need you to stay here in case he comes back. Do me a favor though, don’t ask questions” he replied, and then Dean was out the door.

 ~

Jamming the key into the ignition, the engine of the ’67 Impala roared to life at Dean’s hand. He gripped the wheel firmly, knuckles glowing white with force. Dean checked the rearview mirror to see his own panic stricken face and slammed his other hand on the dash.

“Damnit!” he growled, peeling the car backwards and out of the drive. He had no idea where he was going, no clue where to start looking. Cas couldn’t have gotten far as Sam’s car was still parked outside. A million things were running though his mind all at once. He knew Cas’ mind had been addled by Crowley’s mother, but it was nothing that his grace couldn’t get rid of (even though it had cost him almost all of it); what he didn’t understand was if this newfound frustration Cas was dealing with was misplaced due to the stress or if he was confusing his loyalty to Dean as something more thanks to his new, human, hormonal makeup. Dean searched the surrounding trees with the eyes of a hawk, searching for any signs of movement around him. There was nothing. Another few minutes passed and Dean spun the car wildly around to drive back toward the bunker and beyond –  _maybe he’d turned and gone the other way?_

Just then, a terrific clap of Lightning broke the sky, and the clouds ahead began swirling in the increasingly quick winds.

“Oh fucking perfect!” Dean shouted to himself. He took a fast glance at the empty passenger seat beside him, the anxiety in him growing. The last thing he wanted was for Cas to be out on his own, in the middle of nowhere, graceless, in a storm, and unprotected.  A few miles down the road he caught sight of a motel and pulled in. If Cas had wanted to take shelter during the storm, this would be where he’d run in.

The rain had shifted from barely there to torrential downpour in the time it took for Dean to park and make his way into the lobby. He was soaking wet when he arrived at the desk, the man behind it surprised at his appearance. He looked like he couldn’t be a day older than 22, with curly red hair and about a thousand too many freckles. Judging by how grimy the attendant was, Dean got the impression that they didn’t get many customers.

“You happen to catch a weird looking little dude about yea high comin’ through here?” he asked, miming Cas’ height. The attendant shifted his gaze to the wall just behind Dean, then back him.

“Was just gonna call the cops on him, he was trying to use a fake card…” he said meanly.

“Yeah well don’t worry about all that, just tell me where he went” said Dean, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket and slamming it on the desk.

“What if I don’t remember where he is?” the clerk snarked back with a drawl. Dean glared at him: the boy seemed to shrink.

“You got a lot of confidence for a kid with that many freckles” he said, tossing the kid another bill. “Now where is he.”

Wordlessly, he pointed behind Dean to the row of chairs along the wall.

 

“Room 42” said the clerk,  dropping the key on the counter.

Looking behind him, Dean found who he was looking for. He made to grab his $20 back but the boy had already weaseled away into the back.

Cas was sitting, like a child waiting to be picked up from school, with a newspaper unfolded to cover his face. Dean sighed heavily and made his way over. Looming in front of him, he waited for Castiel to acknowledge him.

“Do you have any idea what a pain in my ass you are?” he barked.

“Go away, Dean” came the voice from behind the newspaper.

“Oh,  _Go away Dean_ , just like that, huh?”

Dean tried to snatch the paper away but Cas hung on, leaving Dean only to awkwardly crumple the top of it.

“Yes” said Cas, annoyed, and attempted to pull the paper from Dean’s grasp.

“You leave the bunker for ten seconds and you’ve already got some punk kid calling the cops on you? I paid for your room by the way,  _you’re welcome_ ” he said angrily.

Cas glared at him.

“I can take care of myself,  _Human_ ” he spat.

Dean scoffed. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

Castiel continued the façade of reading the newspaper.

“So that’s it, you’re just gonna sit here and pout for the rest of the day” he provoked.

Cas slowly, dangerously stood up, bringing himself to his full height, mere inches away from Dean’s face. Dean hadn’t noticed that Cas was as tall as he was, seeing as the way he normally stood made him look a great deal shorter. Dean didn’t move.

“My keys, please” growled Cas, holding out a hand for them. The sound of lightning moaned in the background.

Dean smiled, but not a genuine one, a biting, furious, unpredictable smile, that made Cas’ hair stand on end. The rain had made the smell of pine that came from Dean feel thick in the badly ventilated lobby, and Cas was choking on it.

Dean dangled the keys beside his face, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Come and get ‘em” he taunted.

Castiel was on fire. Everything about this situation made him want to disappear to the other side of the map and leave Dean, alone, to clean up the mess he’d made with the darkness. That cocky, green eyed asshole in front of him was making his blood boil beneath his flushed skin; it was infuriating. The sky grew black outside, and at that moment, the lights in the room flickered.

Cas looked so menacing Dean couldn’t be sure if it was the weather or his own fury that caused the pulse of energy. A deafening clap of thunder broke just above the building, but Dean’s gaze still would not waver.

After another moment passed, Cas scowled at him and turned around to leave.

“Hey, Cas, where are you goin’?!” Dean called out after him.

“I’m not a child, Dean, I can walk home.”

Storm aside, it caught Dean off guard that Cas had called the bunker ‘home’. It never occurred to him that Cas would ever feel like that was an experience he could have, and it made him feel guilty for teasing him.

“Hey hey hey-“ Dean cut in, grabbing Castiel’s arm before he could exit. The bells above the door jangled loudly with the rush of wind that blew into the lobby. Castiel turned and looked at Dean, his eyes sad and tired.

“Come on, man. It’s awful out there, don’t make me drive you back in this.”

Castiel paused a moment, glancing down at Dean’s arm, staying his.

“Look, I’m sorry, We’ll get food, we’ll drink, we’ll deal with this Human shit tomorrow, okay? Please?”

_Please._ How Castiel had grown to hate that word. If there was anything he couldn’t bear to hear that voice say, that was it. He studied Dean’s face, looking for the joke in it, but found none – only pleading. He felt the keys pressed into his hand in surrender, and averted his eyes.

“You don’t have to stay-” said Cas dryly.

“Yeah, but I want to” interrupted Dean, even to his own surprise.

_Cas just kissed you and you… want.. to stay?_ He tried to shake the thought from his mind. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the entire day, all he knew was that he was tired, and flustered, and that Cas needed a friend – he could never say no to Castiel. Cas was his friend. Cas was family.

Another loud clap of lightning.

Castiel nodded smally, and made his way out of the front lobby door and to the unit marked on the keys. The sky was pouring down rain. He could barely make out the headlights of the cars as they passed on the road beside them. Finally turning the key in the lock, he entered the small, musty room. Dean followed. It was pitch black save for one small lamp between the two double beds.

“Well I’m glad  _this_  room isn’t creepy” Dean joked, more to make sure his voice even still worked after the events of the day.  Castiel didn’t respond. He merely took off his shoes, and sat, defeated, on the bed furthest from the door. Turning his back to dean, he squirmed up against the sheets until he finally lay down facing the wall opposite the door. Dean watched wordlessly as Cas pulled his knees up to his chest, showing Dean only his back as he lay in the fetal position.

Dean exhaled. He was at a loss for what to do. He felt the phone vibrate in his pocket, and hit ignore. _Probably Sammy_  he thought to himself. He took off his drenched jacket and threw it on the chair in the corner. He then followed suit and removed his boots with a grunt.

Dean took a seat on the remaining bed and turned the TV on. Immediately the loud voices of the gameshow audience pervaded the room, the lights from the monitor bouncing off of the walls. Cas’ only response was to grab the second pillow and bury his head.

“Aw c’mon man” said Dean gruffly, muting the system. When Cas didn’t respond, Dean stood up and stomped over. He prodded Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel grumbled from beneath the pillow, but refused to come up for air. Dean walked around to the other side of Cas’s bed and shook it.

“Cas, talk to me, man” he pressed.

Castiel turned over and said nothing.

“You’re such a freaking baby” Dean grumbled under his breath.

At this, Cas rose as if possessed, and turned his head to face Dean.

“ _I’m_ a baby?” came his angry voice.

Dean’s eyes widened in horror as Cas rushed him and pinned him to the wall. His hand was covering Dean’s mouth so that he couldn’t speak, and he remained, frozen under Cas’ control.

 His eyes were a fury like Dean had never seen. The blue in them was as bright and reflective now as they had been when his grace was at his strongest. It was moments like this one that made sure Dean could not ever forget the real power and strength that Cas had; he may have been awkward in his vessel, but he was still dealing with a powerful creature of God.

“ _You_ , Dean Winchester, stand there, and think you can pass judgement on  _me?_ After  _everything_ I have given for you, and sacrificed for you, and  _killed_  in the name of  _your_  protection-  you tremble at the mere  _touch_  of my skin to yours! This isn’t even all of what I am, this is only my  _vessel_. I have seen _millions_  fall, raised you from perdition, crushed entire armies of Men, Demons  _and_ Angels, denied the word of my Father, and  _died_  for  _you_  – an  _infant_  to the ages of the worlds I have survived. You have no _idea_  who you’re dealing with. You’ve can’t even handle my  _surface”_ he hissed. “YOU, fragile Dean, are the baby here!”

Dean slowly raised his arms in surrender, his chest straining from his inability to draw breath. His throat was tight and dry, but his eyes were glistening against the reflective glow of the room. 

Castiel lowered his grasp of Dean’s face, but did not move away from him. Castiel’s face was a breath away from Dean’s, but he stood his ground, breathing deeply from the air that Dean exhaled. He studied his face, his green eyes afraid to look away from his, his plush pink lips parted to allow oxygen to escape with a shudder. Time seemed to have stood still at the fury of Cas’ rage, and Dean wasn’t sure if he had been breathing at all. Dean realized to his horror that his pants were uncomfortably tight, and that Cas was bound to notice as much at any moment. He made to place his hand in his pocket, but Cas was too fast for him. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and held it backward, taking one step closer to him, their bodies now touching. Dean’s eyes grew wider still, sick with the knowledge that his tented pants were now pressing, hard, against Castiel’s thigh.

“Cas-“ Dean tried to say, but he couldn’t finish. Castiel’s hand shoved violently past Dean’s belt and into his jeans. His rough fingers grasped his shaft and held it there, applying just enough pressure to make Dean grow even harder. He whimpered.

“Walk away, if you want to” Castiel whispered at last, the movement of his jaw with the words just brushing against Dean’s.

Dean was breathing heavily now, every swallow or air piercing him like a thousand knives. He should move, he should walk out the door and leave Cas to his own devices, to figure his shit out… but to Dean’s own surprise, he wouldn’t. He stayed.

“This is… This is bad… bad idea” mumbled Dean, unsure of himself, still unmoving.

“Uh-huh” Castiel cooed, pressing harder onto Dean’s body.

Dean shuddered and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Even moreso he couldn’t believe that his body was reacting the way that it did. He’d always imagined that perhaps there was some truth in the jests that Castiel had feelings for him stronger than those one might have for a friend, or for family… a more  _profound bond_  as it were….

Suddenly, before he realized what he was doing, Dean had grabbed Cas’s face in his hands and forced his own mouth onto his. His skin was rough, and the scruff of his beard scratched his face in an entirely new but not unpleasant way. He pulled at Castiel’s soft, thick hair and worked his tongue deep inside his mouth. Cas was a clumsy kisser, but was picking up quickly at Dean’s wordless instruction. Dean’s lips were growing raw with the burn of Cas’ stubble, but he didn’t care, not for a second. He let his mouth explore every inch of the Angel’s, pressing harder and harder into him. Finally Dean had created enough distance between himself and the wall that he pushed Castiel back down onto the bed. Castiel groaned softly, and it spurred Dean further into him. After what felt like an eternity, they broke apart for air. Dean lay ontop of him, their foreheads pressed against each other’s, breathing wildly.

“What the fuck is happening here” Dean blurt out, breathless and exasperated.

“Shut up” said Castiel, flipping Dean over onto his back. 

Tearing open the buttons of Dean’s shirt, he bit softly on his chest, then circled his anti-possession tattoo with his tongue. Dean gave a small yelp in surprise. Dean didn’t dare open his eyes, he was terrified if he did that he would stop what was clearly about to happen next. He felt Castiel’s warm tongue braid through the hair beneath his stomach, and finally the hot breath that reached beneath his boxers. He could tell the drops of liquid that had already started spilling out of him had reached Cas’ cheeks, and felt him playfully gnaw at him through the fabric. 

Dean grunted and pushed Cas’ face further into his throbbing self. Cas pulled the fabric down to reveal Dean’s thick, firm, and ready cock. Dean squeezed his fists hard, pulling Cas’s hair to the pain. Castiel wet his lips, and descended upon him. The sound Dean created the moment Castiel’s mouth enveloped him only made Cas suck harder, and for longer pulses than Dean had ever felt. The insides of Castiel’s cheeks and tongue could feel every throbbing vein of Dean’s member as they expanded and pulsed with each excited sound. Castiel placed his hands of either side of Dean’s body, fingering the crease between his thighs and torso. Dean’s eyes were closed so tightly, the wrinkles that met the corners of his eyes seemed to deepen and multiply. Castiel let his mouth slide all the way from the tip to the base in one fluid, wet motion, and Dean gifted him with his own lubrication to continue the deed. Castiel moaned at the sensation of Dean splashing into his mouth, and it sent Dean over the edge. 

Within a few more seconds Dean had slammed Cas’ head all the way over his member, so that his lips could press against it’s base, almost too much for Cas to take- and finished in the back of his throat. Castiel swallowed audibly, and it was almost painful to feel Castiel’s withdrawal from his body. Every part of him felt like a newly exposed nerve.

Silence.

Dean’s breaths were ragged and pained, as was the expression that held him in place. Castiel tongued the dent of Dean’s neck and nibbled at the lobe of his ear. Dean was still afraid to open his eyes.

Castiel stood up from the bed, and wiped his mouth. He looked at the body of the Hunter, jeans still around his ankles, cock still shining with saliva and cum, his chest firm and heaving with every breath. He had hoped he’d done well for him. Castiel had never tried to have this kind of relation with any man, and he knew Dean was well versed in what sexual activities truly satisfied him. Castiel watched him breathe, eyes still closed, making no sort of attempt to raise himself from the bed.

It wasn’t until Dean heard the soft sounds of the front door closing that he could bear to open his eyes. He listened intently, and wondered in the silence if he was alone.

“Cas?” he asked softly, to the void.

There was no response.

Dean took another moment to himself, then sat upright. 

He made his way to the bathroom, took off what was left of his clothing and led himself into the shower. All he could see now was Castiel’s intense face, feel the ghost of his lips pulling tightly on him, sucking out every ounce of cum that was inside him. He throbbed at the thought. While he was curious as to where Castiel had run off to, it was more than he could process to have had to face him then and there. He had no idea how to even face him now. He was being a coward, hiding in the shower until the water was no longer warm so as to avoid the likelihood that Castiel was waiting for him just beyond the door. When he could stand the cold water no more, Dean wrapped the towel around his hips as he gathered his clothes. Putting on his pants and shirt, he wondered how what had just happened would affect them all; would he have to tell Sammy? Did he just paint a target on all their backs? Would this make Castiel even more reckless when it came to protecting the Winchesters? Dean tried to shake the thought.  _Breathe_  he told himself.

With great trepidation, he took his first step out into the room. The sight that met him seemed far too normal. Castiel was seated on the bed closest to the door, fully dressed and with his trench coat on. He was flipping through an older looking book, completely at peace. He didn’t greet Dean when he walked in, or even acknowledge what had just transpired a few feet from where he sat, even though the room still seemed to harbor that electricity in the air. Dean noticed it had stopped raining outside, and that the lights of day had now melted into a cooler, afternoon blue. He could think of nothing to say.

He took a seat at the corner of the bed opposite Cas, wondering if sitting there now was like an intrusion on some sacred ground.  He fingered the ring on his left hand, letting the silence wash over him. It wasn’t a cold, wordless feeling, or the type of silence created from an awkward situation. It was warm, comfortable almost, like the silence a couple who’s been intimate for years might share when they’re lost in their own thoughts.

Dean turned his head slowly, heart pounding to see Castiel, still thumbing through the pages of his book. It was not the same Castiel of this morning, who was anxious, easy to frustrate and on edge; he looked calm, pleasant, and genuinely at ease. Dean was almost annoyed by it.

He took a deep breath and made his way over to the side of his bed that would face Castiel’s. Sinking onto the mattress, Castiel closed the book, still not looking up at Dean.

“Did you know,” Castiel began, holding the closed tome in his hands “that in olden times, vows of marriage were never about all that you have done for the other person. They were a promise to maintain an equal balance; or an understanding that one would give the other only what they had to give – an agreement that recognized that you could not own or order the one you took to wed, but that they would serve in the ways they were needed to out of  _want_ , and not necessity? That was all it took?”

Dean swirled his tongue against his teeth, still rolling the ring around his finger.

“Is that right?” he said, nodding.

Castiel smiled.  “ _I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night. And the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat, And the first drink from my cup.”_ He recited.

Dean stared at Castiel’s beautiful face. He nodded slowly, scratching his chin the way he always did, lips parting in a sad smile.

Castiel finally looked up from his own hands, and his eyes met Dean’s. All the truth in the world swam there, a new, wilder current in his seas of blue. Dean couldn’t look away for the world.

“ _I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care, And tell no strangers our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you. This is a marriage of equals_.” He finished.

Dean was transfixed. He couldn’t believe that so many years of not understanding his bond with Castiel, his intense need to have Castiel with him, in any fashion, what any of that meant could lead to this moment now. The words were the only sounds in the universe to him, a sealed promise that Dean had never asked for but knew he’d hold for as long as life had allowed him passage. He shifted slowly over to Castiel’s bed, and sat beside him. Castiel allowed him room, eyes never breaking, and roiled at Dean’s soft, intimate smile. Their fingers touched, and Dean intertwined his with Cas’. He cupped his other hand to Castiel’s face, and bestowed on him a kiss so full of adoration that Castiel’s legs grew weak. Dean slowly removed his ring and placed in on Cas.

“You in love with me, Cas?” Dean said softly, rubbing the ring on Castiel’s warm hand.

Cas let out a soft, watery laugh, looking down to his own hands. Dean’s hands were large and warm entwined in his. He couldn’t be sure how to answer that question. Castiel had been in love with Dean for so long and had sacrificed so much that it seemed impossible the Hunter would reciprocate those passions and so quickly. He was terrified that this was just a sexually satisfied Dean talking, accepting what Castiel could offer him once again, overlook the obsession that he had for the sake of more pleasure… But Castiel still believed that good things could happen, and selfishly needed to know that this was more for Dean than release. He felt the soft, hot tears cloud his eyes once more, not taking his gaze off the shining silver that now adorned his own hand, placed there by the only man he willingly would give up God for. He couldn’t speak: he just wanted this moment, this soft joy of Dean acknowledging that this was real for Castiel all this time and that he would be still sitting there, at his side, fingers entwined at his own admonition to last an eternity.

“’Cause you know if you are…” Dean continued “Well that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

Castiel smiled and found Dean’s eyes. They were soft, and kind, and as unguarded as he’d ever witnessed: the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. Cas brought Dean’s face to meet his, and took his top lip between his own. It was the only admission Dean needed, and he allowed himself to dissolve into his Angel.

When they finally broke apart, Castiel retrieved his book.

“Sam’s called. There’s a case” he said, wiping the remaining dew from his eyes, but unable to hide his smile.

“Damn. Well, let’s get to it,” Dean said, jumping at the chance to walk away from ended up being an enormous chick flick moment. He paused, looked behind him and finished- “Babe.”

Castiel’s grin widened at the sound of Dean’s key’s jangling against his bullet keychain, the boots scraping the carpet and then the pavement: The door closed behind them as the sound of Dean’s voice hummed the song he hoped would be on in the Impala. The two men closed their respective doors, and the car roared to life. He could hear the sounds of his fingertips against his own skin and stubble when he touched his face, where Dean had kissed him, feel the brief flutter that his lashes brought down over his eyes with every blink – but nothing on Heaven or Earth could drown out the smell of Pine that now enveloped his skin, or the sight of Dean’s ring on his hand.

Castiel could never be sure how to really define this sensation, but all that mattered to him now was that the sensation was his – one he’d always share only with Dean.

 - The End - 

 

Author’s Note: So this is my first fic… I  really didn’t want it to be too long, so I’m sorry if parts of it feel rushed or awful. Anyway I hope you like it ^__^ I’d eventually like to have an Ao3 account but I am on the waiting list O_O Thanks for reading!


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